


Heartstrings

by StormDragon (RetroArcadeRat)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, good luck, orchestra AU, this is literally just me projecting myself onto this au lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroArcadeRat/pseuds/StormDragon
Summary: The concert hall was finally starting to fill with people, high school kids buzzing with excitement. Some of them at the camp for the first time. Lance leaned back in his seat, smiling despite himself. This was his year. His last music camp before college, and he was first violinist.





	1. Chapter 1

Lance wakes with a start, wincing at the krick in his neck and yawning. "Mmm...we there yet?"

Hunk grins over at him, stretching his arms above his head. "Yup! But that's the last nap you'll be getting for a week so I hope you enjoyed it."

Lance groans, trying to suppress another yawn as he pops the car door open, slipping out of his seat and leaning against the side of Hunk's van, tempted to just fall asleep against the pleasantly warm metal. Unfortunately, Hunk rips the fantasy away from him. "Nope! Come on, we gotta check in! The sooner we get going the sooner Violet can get into a nice, air conditioned building."

Shit. He was right. The poor thing had been in a hot car for three hours. He reached back into the car, pulling out his beloved violin and kissing her case. "I'm sorry baby, just a little longer."

Hunk chuckled, grabbing his luggage and locking the car before heading towards the dorm building they would be staying in. Lance followed with Violet cradled in his arms and his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

The check-in line seemed to move quicker than usual, but then again it was their first year doing this without parents in tow. Soon enough they were headed up to their rooms with keys, a schedule, and cheesy t-shirts.

"Aw." Hunk frowned as they grabbed their bags. "We're not even on the same floor."

"It's not like we're gonna be spending much time in our rooms anyway."

"True...I wonder if the food will be any better this year."

"Doubtful."

Hunk's expression sunk into a pout as they reached the door to his room for the week, third floor. "Uh alright, I'll see you at the...introduction...thingy."

"Yeah, see ya." Lance waved at him, trying not to let an amused smile show at how much trouble he seemed to be having with his key. Right. Fourth floor. He took the stairs two at a time, suddenly feeling a rush of excitement. He loved camp. An entire uninterrupted week of pure music. When he practically threw open the door to his room, he found it devoid of life, however it was clear his roommate (whoever it was) had already moved his stuff in. Everything he owned seemed to be in shades of black or dark red. Lance tossed his duffel bag on the bed, looking around before shrugging and exiting the room, locking the door before heading towards the stairs. No harm in getting to the concert hall early.

-

And he did. Sitting smack dab in the middle of the virtually empty hall, he pulled out his phone, opening a message from Pidge.

**tuba fucker: did you guys get lost in the mountains or something**

**Lance McHandsome: excuse you, I don't see you in the concert hall yet Pidgey**

**tuba fucker: oh, and I'm the blind one**

He looked up in confusion to find Pidge staring at him. From the seat directly in front of him. He grumbled a half-hearted excuse, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

"And no. We did not get lost, we just don't need to show up at an ungodly early because we're not coaches."

Pidge pouted, leaning heavily on the back of the seat. "Not my fault he's my brother."

"Did you carpool with Shiro again?"

Pidge groaned, rolling his eyes and climbing over the back of his seat, plopping down next to Lance.

"I'll take that as a yes. My condolences."

Pidge shook their head. "They're such idiots. Actually, can I carpool with you guys on the way back?"

"I dunno Pidge, Sunny kind of takes up the whole backseat."

Pidge rolled their eyes again. "Hunk's baby can move over, we've fit way more in that old van."

"Speaking of." Lance nodded towards the entrance, where Hunk we having a small amount of trouble with the door. He finally got through, gently laying his precious hundred year old bass, Sunny, against the wall away from trampling footsteps.

Lance waved to him and he waved back, grinning as he made his way down the aisle and plopped down on Lance's other side. The concert hall was finally starting to fill with people, high school kids buzzing with excitement. Some of them at the camp for the first time. Lance leaned back in his seat, smiling despite himself. This was his year. His last music camp before college, and he was first violinist. Hunk, as well, was first in his section, but that didn’t say much in Lance’s opinion. The bassists didn’t complete like violinists did. They were all friends, and it was downright weird. Pidge? Well Pidge was the only one in their section. However, they were technically too young to be in the festival group, which was generally reserves for the high school juniors and above, whereas Pidge was only 15, going into their sophomore year.

Lance almost jumped at the loud clapping that rang through the hall, looking up to find that Allura had taken her place on the podium and was smiling out at the sea of musicians.

“Hello! It’s so nice to see you all! Whether you’re here for the first time or the last, I’m sure we’re all going to have a great time together! Now, a few things. Tonight, you’re going to have a meeting with you floor about dorm rules while you’re staying here. This will be at eleven sharp with your floor’s coaches, so don’t be late!

Second, directly after this we will have our first rehearsal! The festival orchestra will be rehearsing here in the concert hall, while the concert orchestra will be in room 1010. If you don’t know where that is there’s a map in your schedule packet, and me and the coaches are always here to help.

Speaking of your schedule packet, it has all the information you need, so don’t lose it!

And I think that’s it for me, so it’s time to introduce you all to your wonderful coaches!”

The coaches took their place onstage and Lance zoned out, only perking up slightly when Shiro’s name was called. He may think that violin was the only instrument worth playing, but that doesn’t mean he can’t respect a man who’s lost almost everything and has kept playing. He doesn’t know the full story, but it was an event that lost him his right arm, Matt’s dad, and Matt’s consciousness for a full year. And he knows better than to ask about it. Shiro waves said arm at the crowd, a prosthetic adorned with cheesy music stickers, and Matt smiles at him like he hung the sun above the world. Lance snorts, shaking his head. Idiots.

Finally, they’re released, the new kids that hadn’t realized they’d need their instruments so soon sprinting out of the hall to retrieve them from their dorms. Lance stood and stretched, picking up Violet and heading towards the stage, followed by Hunk and Pidge, and taking his place as concert master, unpacking and pushing his case under his chair with a toe. As the rest of the seats filled up, he studied his fellow musicians. Most of them he recognized, from the Altean Youth Symphony, the organization that put the camp on each year. However, the first violist didn’t look…no, that wasn’t quite right. He did look familiar, but Lance couldn’t quite place him. He certainly hadn’t been in the youth orchestra that past year, Lance would’ve remembered someone having such a stupid-looking mullet. But Lance did feel like he’d seen him before, even met him. Said mullet man turned towards him, eyes flickering over the violin section. He was holding a (Lance hated to admit it, but frankly) beautiful viola made of a dark red wood, matte varnish not giving off the gross shine that so many beginner instruments had. He was wearing ripped black skinny jeans with combat boots and a tight black v-neck. Lance cleared his throat awkwardly, looking away. Seriously, who the heck wore clothes that tight anymore? He was about to glance back when Allura took the podium again, the dull thunk of her heels against the carpeted platform soft, but present enough to demand the attention of everyone in the orchestra. Lance smiled up at her and she grinned back, clapping her hands together as she surveyed the musicians.

“Hello! And good morning! You all already know me, but I’m Dr. Allura, conductor of the Altean Youth Symphony. Now, I want you all to know that this may be camp, but I expect just as much hard work as we put into our concerts during the year. And with that, let’s begin with Tchaikovsky!”

-

Hunk leaned on the table, smiling dreamily at a tall girl a few tables away. Lance laughed, patting his shoulder. “Just go talk to her, Hunk. You’re a bassist, she’s a drummer, it’s meant to be!”

“Percussionist, Lance.”

“Whatever Hunk, my point still stands. Pidge agrees.” Pidge nods from behind him.

Hunks face does a damn good impression of the tomato left over on his plate as he tries to protest. “G-guys she, I can’t just- she doesn’t even know me!”

“And she’s never going to if you don’t talk to her.”

“Well- maybe…later…” Hunk mumbles, glancing back up as the aforementioned girl- Shay, if Lance remembers correctly- bursts into laughter, grinning at whoever had made the joke. Hunk sighs, smiling softly.

“Gross.” Pidge comments, going back to whatever they were doing with their phone.

“Is this what it’s like living with Matt?”

Pidge fixes him with a look. “Worse.”

“…I’m so sorry.”

-

Somehow Lance makes it through the first day, yawning as he says goodnight to Hunk. There’s still an hour left before the floor meeting, there’s no reason he can’t take a nap. As he steps into the elevator he reflects on the day, mind drifting back to a certain dark-haired individual. He’d have to figure out who he was later. He was certain he’d seen him before. Perhaps at a competition? Definitely leave time to lecture him about his fashion choices. No one needs to wear clothes that tight. And the only reason it bothered Lance was the terrible fashion decision, obviously, not the way the thin material clung to his muscles and-

The ‘ding!’ of the elevator broke him out of his thoughts and he practically stumbled out into the hallway, heading to his room and unlocking it. The light was already on, however, and on the other bed was sitting a now very familiar figure in a tight black v-neck and red briefs. Fuck.

“Mullet man?” He asked out loud before slapping a hand over his mouth. Fuck.

The violist looked up from the book he’d been reading, raising an eyebrow. His awful hair was up in a ponytail, and Lance could swear he felt his heart drop into his stomach. _Fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

_**It’s your last chance!** _

Keith stared at his viola case, which was sitting opposite him on the bed. It felt like his insides had been replaced by a washing machine full of emotion, bouncing and swirling and generally impossible to make sense of. He frowned, heart being pulled in all directions by an unseen force. Finally, strange feelings welling up inside him, he tossed his blanket over the case and stormed out of the room. He began pacing around his tiny, run-down apartment much like the thoughts pacing around his head.

It had been two years. There was no point if Shiro wasn’t coming with him.

 _But he is going to be there._ He tried to block out the small voice of hope.

No, he was going to be there, but not with Keith.

_But he will be there. Allura will be there._

But why should Keith be there with them? It wasn’t like this was his only passion or anything.

 _Exactly. You know you want this. You love music._ _This is all you’ve ever wanted. Go back._

It won’t be the same.

_No, it won’t be the same. It’ll be something new._

Well, I would get to see all the old coaches…and I miss Allura.

_So we agree. We’re going back._

…shit.

He shook his head, flopping down on the floor and staring at the ceiling, trying to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of tears.

After a good half hour or so he sat up, brain fuzzy, feeling unreal. He pulled out his phone, opening up his messaging app and tapping Allura’s name.

**Keith: Alright, I’ll go.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so it looks like this is gonna happen in a kinda alternating present Lance pov/past Keith pov way. Keith's flashbacks are gonna be hella short tho


	3. Chapter 3

Lance woke suddenly again, this time to the screaming of an alarm that wasn’t his. He stretched, yawning, and trying to remember where he was.

Suddenly, it all came rushing back to him. He glanced across the room to where the violist (Keith, apparently) was sleeping, face scrunched up and tangled in his covers. Wearing nothing but those bright red briefs. Probably roughly the color of Lance’s face at the moment. He coughed, hoping to wake the other musician so he would shut off the alarm. After a few more moments he rolled out of bed, padding over to the other’s bed.

“Keith?”

Silence.

“Keith, come on, that thing’s getting annoying.” He reached out, tentatively shaking his shoulder.

Suddenly Keith’s hand shot out, grasping his wrist and holding it there, eyes wide open and full of heavily masked fear. Lance stepped back, raising his hands in surrender as he was released.

“S- sorry.”

“’S fine.” Keith mumbled, pushing a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in all directions. And, in Lance’s opinion, it really had no right to look so good this early in the morning. His own probably looked terrible. Finally, he reached over and shut off the alarm, yawning. Lance realized he was staring and turned away.

“Uh, do you mind if I take the first shower? My hair is…probably acting up.”

Keith shook his head, dragging his hand down his face. “I probably won’t bother today anyway.”

“Gross.”

Keith glared at him. “I took one yesterday. We’re at camp. Half these kids don’t shower at all.”

“Kids?”

“Yeah, kids. This youngest kids at this camp are what…13? 14?”

“And you are?”

“20.”

“Oh.” Lance had never had a thing for older men before but… “then why are you so short?” Damn it Lance.

“You really don’t know when to stop talking, do you?”

Lance remained silent.

Keith shook his head, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom. Lance nodded, grabbing his towel and a fresh change of clothes, but as he was turned away from Keith he could have sworn he caught a small smile on his face.

-

Breakfast brought with it a very sad Hunk poking at a disappointing waffle. Lance frowned sympathetically, patting his shoulder.

“So.” Pidge interrupted, setting their phone down. “Roommates?”

“Concert clarinetist.” Hunk mumbled through a mouthful of (disappointing) waffle. “Kind of a dick but what can you expect from the younger ones.”

“I object to that.” Pidge stated, in a tone that clearly implied they didn’t care. “Lance?”

“Festival violist. I could swear I’ve met him before but I can’t remember.” He frowned, deep in thought as he chewed at his own food.

“A violist? What does he look like?”

“Uh…black hair, chiseled abs, stormy blue eyes, stupid perfect face-“

“Lance, I didn’t ask how gay you were.”

Lance blushed, mumbling an unintelligible excuse and concentrating on his food.

“Seriously though I can probably tell you who he is if you can point him out.”

“Oh right, cuz you stalk people.”

“I do not! I merely…stay informed.”

Lance rolled his eyes, looking over the room carefully. “Oh! There!” He pointed to a corner of the cafeteria where Keith was talking to…Shiro?

For the first time in the history of Lance’s life, Pidge seemed to have been rendered speechless. Only for a few seconds, of course. “…Keith?” they squeaked out, openly staring. “You’re rooming with _Keith?_ I didn’t even know he was here, it’s been- shit.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Okay Pidgey, you can stop speaking in riddles now.”

Pidge cleared their throat before smirking. “Actually, I can’t believe you don’t recognize him, although I suppose he was gone before you reached the top. That’s Keith Kogane, viola prodigy and basically Shiro’s adoptive younger brother. But he hasn’t been to camp in- how the fuck did they convince him to come back?”

“Why did he leave?”

“Now that’s something I can’t tell you. No one knows for sure. Just rumors. But…it was around the time that my dad passed.” Pidge looked pointedly away from the table again. “Anyway, have fun with that one.”

Lance wasn’t sure quite what to say so he settled for watching Keith. Watching the way his mouth moved, how his hip jutted out to the side and his arms crossed in a way that would look angry if it wasn’t for the almost sad expression on his face. This guy was a mess, Lance decided, a gorgeous mess.

-

Rehearsal was going to kill him. He’d practically memorized all his parts, as was his job. What this was supposed to allow him to do was survey the orchestra, making eye contact with key members at key points in the song, and of course watch Allura like a hawk. Instead he found his attention drawn to the first violist. All of the emotional turmoil he’d already been able to observe seemed to melt away as he played, face calm and focused, almost content, almost happy. It fascinated him to no end. The curve of his lips, slightly parted. His dark eyelashes, fluttering as his eyes skipped down to each new line or flickered up to Allura. He finally broke his gaze to nod at the first cellist at their entrance before embarrassingly quickly returning to Keith, who was now looking directly at him. The violist seemed to lean almost imperceptibly toward him, but he could have just be swaying to the music. His eyes slid shut, those beautiful eyelashes casting faint shadows on his cheek, and when he blinked them open his gaze was gone, presumably directed back at Allura. It felt like Lance’s entire body was on fire. He was almost glad when Allura cut them off a second later because he was finding it incredibly hard to focus. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second. Just two more hours, he could do this. He was pretty sure he could anyway.

-

During their way-too-short break, Pidge and Hunk ended up engaged in a conversation about software or something that sounded like another language to Lance, so he opted to take a nice calming walk around the college campus. He ended up wandering the grass, looking around at what he assumed were cherry trees, spread haphazardly across the grounds.

Suddenly, a melody caught his attention, something he recognized immediately as Gershwin, played by a viola. He would still firmly stand by his view that violin was the only good instrument to play, but holy shit. The tone was so rich he could almost feel it. Warm and tangible, almost like a warm breeze blowing through his chest. Fitting too, given the melody the mystery violist was playing was Summertime. He’d heard so many renditions of the piece he had decided long ago he’d never need to hear another, but suddenly he seemed to have changed his mind.

And now the question of the century. Walk toward the music, or away? He took a step forward, then one back, unsure. What would he even say? He took a few more tentative steps forward, trying to at least get a glimpse of the player. Finally, a mess of dark hair came into view. Someone in all black, leaning against a tree and holding a deep red viola. Shit. Definitely away. Definitely. He retreated, practically running once he was out of earshot, sure his face was bright red at this point.

He had never been very insecure about his sexuality, but then again it had never mattered to him a whole lot. Until, well, when had camp started again? Anyway, until recently, he’d most just been attracted to people. Never felt much for them, never done much about it. Just light flirting, eyebrow wiggling, casual stuff.

But this was a new feeling. And he felt strangely invalid about it seeing as he’d just met the guy last night, but he couldn’t deny the feeling that was making his chest tight and stomach do flips. It was warm, and protective, and full of light, and it felt so _good._ The melody of Gershwin’s Summertime was still echoing around in his head, causing him to feel ridiculously like he was in some sort of romantic comedy as he reached the concert hall, plopping down in the empty audience and staring into space.

A sudden buzz from his pocket made him jump.

**tuba fucker: dude where did you go**

**Lance McHandsome: Seriously? You just now realized I was missing?**

**tuba fucker: …yes?**

**Lance McHandsome: Wow rude.**

**Lance McHandome: I’m in the concert hall**

**tuba fucker: thought you said you might take a walk**

**Lance McHandsome: Well, I ran into…a problem**

**tuba fucker: like a real problem or a gay problem**

**Lance McHandsome: Pidge I s2g do u have cameras everywhere or what**

**tuba fucker: …maybe?**

**Lance McHandsome:  You’re so creepy.**

**tuba fucker: so a gay problem**

**Lance McHandsome: Yes a gay problem**

**Lance McHandsome: He was playing Summertime among the cherry trees what was I supposed to do**

**tuba fucker: Lance?**

**Lance McHandsome: Yes?**

**tuba fucker: ur fucked**

**Lance McHandsome: Haha I wish**

**tuba fucker: …gross**

Lance shoved his phone back in his pocket, looking up at the stage. He’d always loved Gershwin. A true musical genius, in his opinion. If only he didn’t use so much brass. Violin was clearly superior.

“Gay.” The whisper made him jump ten feet in the air as Pidge fell back on their ass, laughing so hard they snorted. “Holy shit you had such a stupid look on your face you’re _so_ easy to scare, _fuck.”_

Lance gave them his best unamused glare. “If you’re quite done, _tuba fucker.”_

Hunk waved sheepishly at him from behind Pidge, grinning apologetically. Lance didn’t buy it. Hunk had probably been the one to suggest it.

“So.” Pidge started, coughing lightly and wiping at their eyes under their glasses. “Let’s lay this out. You’re in love with my brother’s future husband’s little brother.”

Lance made a noncommittal noise, staring intently at anything but Pidge.

“And Summertime is your song now.”

“Dude fuck off it is not.”

“Ah, but you _are_ in love with him then. What is your song?”

“Pidge, you are so-“

“Knowledgeable? Yeah, I know. It does not run in the family.”

Lance groaned and rolled his eyes.

“But mark my words Lance, if you don’t make a move before camp is over I _will_ have your ass.”

“Ew gross Pidge.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not like that dumbass. But hopefully you’ll be having his ass.”

“ _PIDGE.”_

“Mark my words.” Pidge grinned at him, standing as the other musicians started to file back into the hall, break almost over.

Lance shook his head, unwilling to admit that he had made a mental note to memorize the Summertime melody as soon as possible.

-

He had to take a deep breath before unlocking the door to his temporary room that night, really prepare himself for whatever he was about to see.

He was not prepared.

Nothing could have prepared him.

Keith was standing in the center of the room, hair tie between his teeth and wearing nothing but a damp towel tied awfully low on his hips. “Oh,” he said, taking the hair tie from between his teeth and putting his hair up in that accursed ponytail, “you’re back.”

Lance nodded, speechlessly entering the room. “L- long day,” he stuttered, starting to rummage through his luggage for his pajamas.

Keith nodded, stretching. Lance would later swear he was by no means watching his back muscles. “Hey uh, I was you talking to Shiro earlier, you know him?” He asked, feigning ignorance, not that he knew all that much.

“Yeah. He’s like a brother to me.” Keith sat down on his bed, pulling a pair of briefs out of his red duffel bag.

“Oh. That’s uh. Cool” Real smooth, Lance. “I…really look up to him.”

“Well I don’t blame you. Who wouldn’t?”

“Yeah he’s. Pretty great. Uh. I’ve never seen you with this orchestra before though.”

Keith was silent. Lance glanced over but found the expression on his face entirely unreadable. “Yeah well I…I haven’t been in it for a while.”

“Oh.” Don’t do it Lance, don’t do it. “Why?” Fuck. He almost winced, expecting a violent reaction.

Instead, Keith just looked like that was the last thing in the world he had been expecting to hear. “Well I- it just didn’t work out I suppose. And once you leave it’s hard to get back honestly.” He moved behind a corner and Lance heard the towel drop. It took all of his self-control to stay where he was and not peek around the wall.

“Well I- I’m glad you came back.”

Keith stepped back out, now in his briefs, looking at Lance like he had suddenly turned purple. “Why do you care?”

“You…seem nice.”

“Nice?” Surprisingly, that seemed to coax a light chuckle out of the violist. “That’s a first.”

As he changed into his pajamas and pulled the covers over himself Lance tried to ignore how the smallest signs of joy from the other boy made his chest tighten, but was finding it incredibly impossible. After barely a minute, he drifted off to the thought of how great that small smile and warm gaze would look up close. 


	4. Chapter 4

Keith’s apartment was, honestly, kind of shitty. And it wasn’t entirely the fault of the landlord. It took was too much energy for him to work on keeping his place clean, and so it was littered with dishes, clothes, empty takeout boxes, and almost anything else you could think of. That had its downsides, however (shocking, right?)

Currently the main downside was that he couldn’t find his interview shirt. He knew he had a nice button-up somewhere but he had no clue where. He waded through his ‘living room’, tossing aside clothes and trinkets. Suddenly, his hand made contact with something solid. He pulled the coat covering it aside to reveal…his viola case.

He sat down hard on the floor (what little there was), staring blankly at the black case. Memories and emotions came rushing back and he bit his lip, reaching toward it, wanting to take it out and…and play what? It had been buried for a year, he had nothing to play, nothing to do.

A patch of nice material caught his eye and he pulled the coat back over the case, grabbing the button-up and leaving the room.

_Later._


	5. Chapter 5

“We’re trying something new this year!”

Oh no. Six words Lance never wanted to hear.

“The festival orchestra will get to choose their own groups for small ensembles!”

Oh god.

“Within reason of course. But I trust your judgement! You don’t have to form a typical ensemble, just something that works. If you want to arrange something, that’s just fine too, as long as you can get it done. We expect your choices after breakfast tomorrow morning!

Lance had forgotten this was a camp. Sure, it was a two week camp, but a camp nonetheless. Which meant they didn’t have much time. A choice by tomorrow? There was no way Hunk was going to back out of the annual bass ensemble, and he didn’t really feel like trying to make a violin and a tuba sound natural together. He groaned, trying not to look like he wanted to die. After all, he was the concert master, he had to at least look vaguely happy about it all. Shit, he had no idea what he was going to do about this. Keith, he belatedly realized, looked like he was on the same train of thought as Lance, if not worse. Maybe…violin and viola sounded pretty good together…

He shook his head, trying to clear it. He could figure it out later, it was time for lunch now and he’d slept through breakfast (again).

-

“Listen, _no one_ wants to play with me.” Pidge was pouting next to Lance and Hunk ignored both of them in favor of his dinner and Shay.

“Yeah well. Everyone wants to play with me.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“I don’t want to play with any of them! ‘Oh, Lance, want to be part of our quartet?’ Like, uh, no? Do I know you? Didn’t think so.”

Pidge snorted, shaking their head. “Or you’re saving yourself for Keith.”

Lance could feel his face instantly go bright red at the insinuation. “Excuse you Pidgey, I simply have high standards for my…my play partners.”

Pidge’s face broke out into a grin that could be described as downright evil. “Play partner, huh?”

Lance groaned, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his seat. He did not want to give Pidge the satisfaction of seeing his face right now. “Not like that, oh my god. You just have to take every innocent phrase and make it dirty, don’t you?”

“Yep.” Well, at least they were honest. “But you might wanna talk to him soon.”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Before he finds himself another _play partner.”_

“Pidge, I will strangle you.”

“Sure you will, noodle arms.”

-

“…Keith?”

“Yeah?”

They were both sitting on their beds in the dorm, the only noise coming from the small fan Lance always brought with him. He fidgeted, picking at a loose thread in his sleeve, unsure why he was so nervous about this. “Would you want to play with me? For ensemble?” When he looked up, Keith was staring at him. “Wh- what? I just thought maybe you’d want to- you don’t have to, it’s not like-“

“Lance.”

“What?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“What do you want to play?”

“I was thinking…” well here goes nothing, “Gershwin.”

Keith seemed surprised. “We’ll have to arrange something. It might take some time.”

“But it’ll be worth it right? We could um, do something from Porgy and Bess? Maybe Summertime?” He tried his best to ignore the way his voice had squeaked in the middle of that last word, as well as keeping focused on Keith’s face and not curling up into a ball and quitting being a human.

Emotions seemed to swirl across Keith’s face, fighting each other for dominance. But it was only for a split second before they all vanished. “Alright.”

“Ah- cool! So, we can start figuring it out tomorrow? It’s not like it’s very hard I just. You know.”

Keith nodded, and Lance could swear the way he looked at him was different than before, but he was sure he was just imagining it.

**Lance McHandsome: Pidge help**

**tuba fucker: im so screenshotting that**

**Lance McHandsome: Whatever just**

**Lance McHandsome: He’s so pretty**

**tuba fucker: I hate to break this to you but I don’t think I can help you with that lance lmao**

**Lance McHandsome: He smiled at me**

**tuba fucker: yeah that’s like**

**tuba fucker: a common courtesy**

**Lance McHandsome: Okay well it was. It was amazing.**

**tuba fucker: oh man. Poor lance. Try not to remember youre sleeping in the same room as him**

**Lance McHandsome: Jeez how could I forget?**

**tuba fucker: okay loverboy, get some sleep. They don’t have coffee here**

**Lance McHandsome: Ugh don’t remind me. Night, Pidgey.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh sorry this is so short but I'm really trying to focus on just keeping it going.


	6. Chapter 6

Keith bit his lip, speaking softly while trying to hold back tears. “Shiro, come on…”

“Keith, I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to.”

“Jesus, Shiro, this must’ve cost-“

“It doesn’t matter. It’s yours now. What you do with it is up to you.”

Suddenly the shiny paper cone on his head seemed utterly ridiculous, and he wrapped Shiro in a tight hug. “Thank you. I- I’ll try…”

But it was not to be. And over the years the beautiful red viola began to collect dust, and became lost in the mess of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still following this fic, I can't thank you enough. I'm currently struggling to keep up with rejoining my old orchestra, along with work and trying to get into college, all of which operates on a different schedule, and it's been harder than I'd hoped to deal with. However, though I may be slow with updates, I don't plan to abandon this fic. The story means a lot to me.


	7. Chapter 7

After handing their plans into Allura (some sort of duet arrangement of summertime plus a little piece lance had composed at school), Keith didn’t part with Lance like he figured he would.

“We have a little while before rehearsal, we might as well get started.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. Um, there should still be a few practice rooms open, right?”

Keith made a face at that.

“What?”

“I hate practice rooms, too clean.”

“…kay…so…?”

“So we practice outside. There’s plenty of room.”

“Oh.” Memories of the cherry trees filtered back to the forefront of his mind and he took a deep breath, trying to focus. “Yeah, let’s do that. You lead the way.”

-

Pidge was not wrong about Keith being a prodigy. Of course he’d seen the way his fingers moved during rehearsal but hearing it was different. Lance never though that something he’d written the night before it was due could sound so beautiful. The warm tone of Keith’s viola (named Rowan, he’d learned) almost made him wonder if he’d chosen the wrong instrument. Not quite though, violin was still the best. It was almost strange how quickly they picked up each other’s playing styles. Lance’s piece came together in a matter of minutes, and they had almost completely finished their plans for the arrangement before they had to head back to the concert hall.

 “So…what do you do when you’re not doing…this?” The sun was glaring down at them, and Lance was dancing between shadows as he walked, twirling around to look at Keith.

“Uh- “ he seemed strangely taken aback by the question, almost as though no one had asked him such a thing before, “I mean, I work mostly, I guess.”

“Oh. Are you in an orchestra? I know you’re not in ours.”

Lance barely caught the flinch before Keith replied. “No.”

At this point he knew better than to ask why not, though it was tempting. He changed the subject instead. “Where do you work?”

“McDonald’s.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ve just…never met someone who actually works at McDonald’s before.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards almost imperceptibly. “I mean, assuming you’ve been to a McDonald’s before, you’ve met at least one.”

Lance glared. “You know what I mean. It’s rare to find one in the wild.”

“Well, here I am. Out in the wild. I mean, normally you’d never see me outside of work and my apartment. Or the grocery store once a month.”

“Your apartment? You have your own place?”

“Yeah? I am 20, remember?”

“Hey, some people live with their parents much longer than that.” Lance dropped back a few paces to walk forward beside Keith after almost running into a tree.

“I’m just saying, it’s not that weird.”

Lance shrugged. “Maybe we could hang out sometime.” It had left his mouth before he’d thought about it, but Keith responded before he could say anything else.

“I’d like that. I…haven’t had anyone in my house in a long time.”

Fuck Lance, be cool. “Oh. Well, I’m almost always free so just let me know.”

“Well I suppose I should get your number then.”

“Keith.”

“Hm?”

“You’re stealing all my lines.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “If you say so.”

Soon Keith’s number was in his phone. Lance made sure to add a ‘:)’ to the new contact as soon as his roommate wasn’t looking.

-

Lance had never been too good at staying awake during the nightly lectures. This time though, he was distracted for a different reasons. He had never been one to pass notes in class but he suddenly understood why it was such a popular tropes. He’d pulled out his notebook so he could at least look like he was working, but then Keith had sat down next to him, and it had become a page of hastily scrawled jokes and doodles of various youth symphony coaches and musical historic figures.

Lance was so focused on the page that when he finally looked back up at Keith to find him smiling he could swear his heart stopped. Keith noticed the look on his face, taking pencil to paper again.

‘what?’

‘nothing’ A pause. ‘you look good when you smile’ he hastily scribbled it out, body feeling unusually warm.

‘I can read faster than you can write, dumbass.’

‘sorry, I panicked’

‘why’

‘I don’t know’ it was a bad answer and he knew it.

‘that’s okay, I know the feeling’

Before Lance could even speculate on what that meant, Allura’s voice rang across the room. “Alright, straight to bed, you all have a big day ahead of you. Oh! Before you go though, just keep in mind that we do have an end-of-camp talent show! The approval auditions are in a few days, so make sure you’re ready!”

Oh fuck Lance had forgotten about the talent show. He probably wasn’t going to do anything, he never did. There had been a year that the other violinists had coerced him into joining their skit, but he had learned his lesson.

Keith, on the other hand, was treating Lance to another smile. “I think I missed the talent show the most.”

Lance couldn’t keep himself from laughing. Whisper-laughing, of course. “Why?”

“Oh, that’s right. Most people here haven’t actually seen my act before. Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” His smile quickly turned into more of a devious smirk, and Lance could feel his hear trying to climb up his throat.

“Kay,” was all he could manage, swallowing hard and trying to get his racing pulse under control. This boy was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience everyone <3 I promise I am still working hard on this fic I am just struggling a lot in my life so it's slow going but I will get it done!


	8. Chapter 8

Keith could find no words to describe how good it felt to have his own place. Sure, it was tiny as hell, dirty, and probably had a few leaks here and there, but it was the closest thing he’d ever had to a home. He was laying on his bed, smiling up at the ceiling. Now that he had a place, he could start saving up for a new viola. The one currently sitting next to him on his bed had been found at Value Village and was…a little off, to say the least. She worked, but definitely not well, and he had never felt much of a connection.

His alarm rang suddenly, startling him and reminding him it was time to go to work. He jumped up, grabbing his backpack and sweater and heading out the door, locking it behind him and reveling in the feeling of knowing he now had a place to come home to.


	9. Chapter 9

Lance couldn’t remember camp ever going so quickly. And that was saying something, because usually it flew by before he could even begin to remember where the bathroom was. Somehow over the course of the week, their chamber practice sessions morphed into something different. The coached sessions were serious and technical of course, but when they were alone they ended up trying to improv, loosely following Gershwin’s outline and circling each other, musically and literally. Lance would definitely say he felt like they were two lions stalking each other. On one such day, Keith ended the last note with a flourish, flopping down on the grass.

“Done for today?” Lance asked, already loosening his bow. Camp was starting to get to him. As great as it was, it was also incredibly intense, and he was losing a lot of sleep. That bit wasn’t entirely the fault of the camp though. He was very easily distracted by his phone at night. He pulled it out now, scrolling through Facebook.

Keith shrugged. “I think we’ve got it.”

“Oooh, don’t let Allura hear you say that.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m well aware.” Keith set his face in a serious scowl, imitating Allura. “You’re never good enough! Never stop practicing! 100% is not enough!”

Lance held his sides, impressed with how he could vividly remember her saying each of those.

“Guess she hasn’t changed much then.” Keith commented, smiling.

“Wait- so you were in her orchestra?”

Keith’s face suddenly defaulted to the carefully blank expression, though it was different this time. Lance was used to seeing people try to hide their emotions, Keith looked more like he was attempting to let them through, but not quite succeeding.

“Sorry.” He wasn’t sure what else to say.

“No it’s- I was. I shouldn’t have-“ he shook his head, and Lance could almost see the half-finished thoughts swirling around in his brain. “Um. Yes. She was my conductor for a while.”

“And Shiro?”

“Yeah, Shiro was there. He wasn’t a coach yet, just the first cellist.”

“And then-“

“He left- I left.”

“Oh.”

“I just couldn’t keep going without him. But he went to a conservatory. I went absolutely nowhere. He got scholarships and won awards and solo spots and he’s all set to graduate.” A slight pause, as though he was thinking. “I got employee of the month once. Because I have no life so I covered five shifts in one week and worked myself to death over the holidays.”

“I mean hey- that’s brave.” Lance honestly wasn’t sure what to say. It was weird moments like these that made him wonder about humans. Here he was, learning way more about Keith than he ever thought he’d know. And, somehow, it was incredibly endearing. He just wanted to- “Keith, can I hug you?”

“What?”

“I- never mind.”

“No that- that would be nice.”

Oh fuck. Lance leaned over, wrapping an arm around him. They were sitting so it was a little awkward, and Lance ended up just resting his other hand on Keith’s knee. But Keith had his hand resting on Lance’s hip and his eyes were closed and Lance was ready to officially declare himself deceased. “I’m sure you’ll find something. Someplace you belong or- I don’t know.”

Keith laughed. It was bitter and sad and Lance wanted to hold him forever. “If you say so.”

“I mean, everyone does, eventually. I- I’ll help you!” Suddenly, Lance found himself filled with a strange sort of determination. And there was that smile again.

“Sure, Lance. Come on, it’s almost time for lunch.”

Lance gave him a mildly annoyed look. “Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

“You are.” Lance couldn’t see Keith’s face because he had turned around to set Rowan back in her case, but the words alone were doing strange and powerful things to his heart, so he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

They remained in comfortable silence until they reached the dining hall and Lance spotted his friends.

Lance grinned and waved at Hunk and Pidge, heading towards them, but stopping in his tracks when he noticed something. He could see Hunk trying to follow his line of sight, and smirked deviously when he spotted what Lance had. Shay was sitting alone.

 He could see Hunk mouth ‘no no no’ at him through the crowd, but he happily ignored it, heading towards the tall drummer. He glanced back, grinning to himself when he saw Pidge following, along with a less enthusiastic Hunk.

“Hey! I’m Lance! Mind if we sit down?”

“Oh! Go right ahead! It is nice to meet you all!”

“This is Pidge, Hunk, and- well, come on Keith, sit down.”

Keith shifted on his feet, frowning slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, come on!”

Keith sat down in the last remaining seat at the round table.

“So,” Lance began, “Hunk here has been telling me he wants to learn percussion.”

“Oh! Really? How delightful!” She turned towards Hunk, face lighting up, and Lance considered his job done, judging by the shade of Hunk’s face.

He turned to Pidge. “So. How are chamber rehearsals going?”

They just shrugged. “They’re alright. The other brass players are kind of boring honestly. And the trumpet player is super stuck up, what a shocker.” They paused and smirked at him. “How’s _your_ chamber group coming?”

Lance chose to ignore their choice of words. “It’s going great! Keith’s amazing.” Well, he hadn’t quite meant to add the last part, but there it was, and he might as well roll with it. He turned towards Keith just enough to smile warmly at him, trying desperately to ignore how his heartbeat sped up when he made eye contact. He could have sworn Keith’s cheeks flushed but then a strange expression crossed his face, and he looked away. Pidge gave Lance a look and he made a face at them. “Anyway, we’re gonna do great, though of course no one else ever thinks so. The bass ensemble is always the favorite.” He shot a joking glare at Hunk, who was definitely not paying attention.

Pidge shrugged. “Can’t say I blame them honestly. Chamber groups are cool but you can only listen to so many of them in one sitting.”

Lance nodded, only half listening as they began to ramble about the proper balance in a brass chamber group, and watching Keith out of the corner of his eye.

-

“Hey Keith, are you…are you okay?” They were in their room, both on their phones, and Lance couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice was flat, monotone, and Lance frowned.

“You just seem kind of- off.”

“Yeah, well. It happens.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No.”

“If you say so. Night, Keith.”

He was greeted with silence, and left wondering if he’d done something wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowww this is so messy ahhh but there it is! I think I'm getting better at the very least haha. Thank you all for sticking with me haha


	10. Chapter 10

_Summertime…and the livin is easy_

‘Oh, how ironic,’ Keith thinks to himself, lyrics running through his head as he played. He was sitting on a street corner, playing, according to most passersby, the violin. He barely noticed the outside world at times like this. His fingers seemed to move on their own, mind wandering.

 _One of these mornings_  
_You're going to rise up singing_  
_Then you'll spread your wings_  
_And you'll take to the sky_

Bittersweet lyrics that he seemed to just keep coming back to. He wasn’t terribly bad off, if he was being completely honest. He was still in his last year of high school, and had a fair amount of friends, so couch surfing was going quite well, and all he had to do to get a job was find a place desperate enough. So that much would come in time. But currently, it just wasn’t ideal.

_But until that morning_  
_There's a'nothing can harm you_  
_With your daddy and mammy standing by_

Oh, if only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on the next chapter as I type, it's almost done but con season is coming up so we'll see how far I get.  
> Oh also! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52No-R1kyUs this is one of my fave renditions of summertime if anyone wants to listen to it!


	11. Chapter 11

Finally came the day of the chamber concert. Except, well, Lance wasn’t sure they were going to do very well. Keith had been increasingly closed off and cold, and that wasn’t a good state of mind to be in while playing a piece called ‘summertime’. But maybe Keith would prove him wrong. Maybe. Except he wasn’t talking to him, wasn’t looking at him in the halls. Chamber groups needed eye contact, but would Keith ignore him even then?

He frowned at nothing in particular, fiddling with his violin’s strings in the darkness of backstage, waiting for the woodwind chamber group ahead of them to finish. Keith was standing a few feet away, looking directly at the floor and not moving. Lance could just barely see the emotions flashing across his face, though he couldn’t even begin to think about what it meant.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by applause and he shifted closer to the stage entrance, making sure to step to the side to make room for the exiting musicians. He looked to Keith and smiled, but Keith was watching the stage. And then they were on. Lance wasn’t used to feeling uneasy about a performance, but he had never played on the same stage as someone who he felt so out of touch with before. They took their places, bowing before readying their instruments, and finally Keith’s eyes were on him. He looked exhausted, conflicted. Lance almost forgot to play.

Summertime had never felt so cold. Lance had listened to it many times in his life. Nothing in Keith’s playing was technically different, and yet Lance could tell that it just was. He could only imagine this was how someone played when they didn’t love what they do. But what had happened to the amazing piece Lance had heard only days ago?

Applause fell on deaf ears as Lance rushed after Keith, finally catching up with him in an empty hallway. They were supposed to be watching the rest of the performances but Lance had never been a stickler for the rules and apparently neither was Keith.

“Hey- Keith, wait! Come on, man!”

Keith turned on him suddenly, and Lance almost ran into him, stopping just short. “What?”

“Dude, I just, did I do something wrong? You’re obviously not okay.”

Keith winced almost imperceptibly. “Why do you care? After tomorrow you’ll never have to see me again.”

He had a good point. Why _did_ Lance care? “I just. I just do, okay? And that- that performance was terrible.” Shit.

“Well I’m sorry I’m such a burden.”

“Hey, don’t- I just meant, it made it obvious, I don’t think you play right when something’s up, I just-“

“Lance. You don’t know me. Get over it.”

And he was gone.

What a way to start the day.

-

He could swear he heard his name. But he was alone, wasn’t he?

“Lance!” Oh right, they were at lunch.

“Huh?”

“Dude are you okay? You haven’t even touched your food.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

Pidge gave him a skeptical look. “Does it have anything to do with Keith? Because he seems to be getting a talking to over there.” They gestured towards the corner of the dining hall, and sure enough, there was Keith, a stern Shiro talking to him with his arms crossed.

“I mean. Okay yeah, it is. He’s just, seemed- well, off somehow.”

“Yeah?”

“I think he might be mad at me but I can’t tell why.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“Well, I tried to. Didn’t go too well.”

“Sorry, buddy. Maybe try again tomorrow?” It was odd, Pidge not having anything snarky to say, but he decided he could deal with it for now.

“I’m not sure I want to honestly. Actually, I’m not even sure I want to go back to the room tonight.

“You can stay in my room if you want.” Hunk offered.

“Thanks buddy. I’ll probably take you up on that. So much for a great last year of camp.”

-

Lance had to admit, making fun of the talent acts with Pidge was cheering him up, if only a little. They weren’t necessarily bad, just cheesy. Most of them were silly skits, or impersonations of well-known coaches. He’d seen most of them before, or at least something similar. The coach’s own sketch was as usual particularly terrible, a butchered version of Rapunzel set to an EDM remix of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony.

“And next up, Keith Kogane.” Well, fuck, there went the mood. The lights dimmed and Keith came onstage holding what looked like two weird translucent jellyfish capsules on strings. Holding them in his hands, he seemed to press a button on the bottom and they burst into a rainbow of color.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed.

“Oh no,” Pidge added helpfully.

“Oh no it’s those spinny things people have at raves.”

“Yeah you’re screwed.” He couldn’t tell whether or not Pidge was faking the sympathy in their voice or not, but they were right. As much as he didn’t want to talk to Keith or be near him right now, he could still be attracted to him, and the only thing worse than a boy with a talent is a boy with more than one talent.

Lance watched his movements carefully, everything deliberate and practiced. He obviously knew what he was doing, and it was killing Lance slowly. “Pidgeee.”

Pidge just patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry your dream boy is a human trash can full of angst and repressed feelings but I don’t think I can help you.”

Lance pouted, sliding down in his chair and crossing his arms. Why couldn’t he just let it go? Something drew him to Keith, but fuck if he knew what. He had never worried too much about having someone beside him but for some reason now his heart was trying to tell him that he needed Keith by his side. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. That was gross, he was fine without him. It was probably just a stupid crush. _But it’s not,_ logic argued, _you know it’s not._

Finally, the stupid talent show was over, and he was one of the first out of the building as usual, but for a different reason this time. That night he lay awake next to a soundly sleeping Hunk, frowning at the ceiling, desperately trying to clear his head and intensely regretting his decision to come to camp, though he knew he wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally we get to the Angst chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it, we're getting close to the end now wow!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first Voltron fic, I really hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter and I hope to have more up soon!


End file.
